“Oh! what fun! how lovely it is!” cried the petite-maîtresse. “Keep on, monsieur, harder! Look out, you are jerking me.—Ah! my dear, you can’t imagine how I like this!”
Madame de la Thomassinière gave no sign of being tired of swinging; but Madame Destival, who was not at all amused, resorted to the device of fainting, and fell back in her chair with a hollow groan. Thereupon Auguste left the swing and ran to Emilie, exclaiming:
“What is the matter, madame?”
“Leave me; you are a monster!” replied Madame Destival, her eyes still closed.
“What have I done, pray?”
“Do you think that I have not noticed your conduct?”
“My conduct has been perfectly natural, I should say——”
“Not content with coming here from—from I don’t know where, monsieur presumes, in my presence, to make love to that flirt, who behaves in the most indecent way! I should have hoped that you would at least respect my house, monsieur!”
“Really, madame, I cannot in the least understand your anger. I am courteous, polite—nothing more.”
“Do you think that I have no eyes? It is far too evident. The least that you can do is to show some little self-restraint!”